


Sins

by Akoya8



Series: Birthday One-Word Prompts [17]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fingering, Implied/Referenced Character Death, New Year's Eve, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akoya8/pseuds/Akoya8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petyr attends a New Year's Eve party. Interesting things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themysteryvanishing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themysteryvanishing/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire. It belongs to GRRM. 
> 
> Author’s Note: This is the seventeenth fic in my one-word prompt series. AU Petyr/Sansa pairing. Okay guys and gals, listen up, this fic comes with major warnings! Other than sex, of which there is a generous amount, you need to watch out for a recounting of a rape experience. It’s not graphic, but if that is a trigger for you, or if you don’t like it, please pass this fic on by.

Seeing her standing before him, he was sure that the sins of his past were catching up to him, eager to begin his punishment. “Sansa Stark. What brings you to my door today?”

“It’s been a while, Mr. Baelish; I thought we might catch up.”

There was a time when he would have admonished her gently, asking her to call him Petyr, but that time was in the past. “And here I thought we had agreed to never see each other again. It’s been two years since then; forever came around rather quickly.”

She blushed and looked away, “I know what we agreed, but I—”

Sansa bit off the rest of her sentence, suddenly looking at him head on. She has such honest eyes, Petyr thought; those eyes will always give her away. He sighed, moving out of the doorway and gestured inside, “Well, you’d best come inside, no need to air our dirty laundry to the neighbors.”

She went through the door quickly, hair flying out behind her, and her scent wafted over him. Almost involuntarily, he was transported back to the last time he had stood so close to Sansa Stark.

_It was a New Year’s Eve gala, certainly not the first the Starks had ever held, but it was the first that he had ever attended (after multiple assurances that Lysa would not be putting in an appearance)._

_The gala also had the distinction of being his last._

_Petyr had avoided the Starks for years, avoided Catelyn for years, as propriety dictated in the aftermath of the…incident. He had also spent some time licking his wounds, but when word had got around about the honorable Eddard Stark’s infidelity (and its obvious result), he had felt marginally better._

_Distance, and time, had done the rest of the work, and he could go for weeks, months even, without thinking of Catelyn’s cries,_ “He’s just a boy! Let it go!” _His attendance at the Stark gala was a test of his mettle: could he make it through an entire evening without making an attempt on Cat’s life, or her virtue?_

_If he managed it, he would feel secure enough to do business with Ned, if not, well, he hadn’t needed Stark money for the last twenty years. So far, everything was going swimmingly well. He’d made conversation, had managed politeness with only a dash of condescension, and had outlined a proposal to Ned that seemed like a sound venture (and completely aboveboard, a rarity for him)._

_Cat, and his past with her, was barely weighing on his mind. Then, they had introduced him to Sansa, their eldest daughter. She drove every thought he had about Cat out of his head. She was loveliness incarnate, with an air of innocence that had the devil inside him begging for a taste._

_However, her eyes held a story all their own, one that he recognized from running his establishment over the years: someone had taken this girl, and they had not been kind. Normally, Petyr wasn’t affected by that look, long inured to its effects; he had a business to run after all. But, in deference to the feelings of the victims, he had made a concession: never without their consent._

_He made more money that way, rarely lost a girl to suicide or depression, and his clients were pleased knowing that they wouldn’t have to use force (unless it was asked for, of course). He was struck by anger, not over her age, he’d seen younger, but by the inattention of her family. Surely, someone must have noticed, must have taken her aside and seen that her smile was too false, her eyes too bright?_

_But they hadn’t, and so, she had flown beneath their radar for how long? Some of what he felt, what he realized, must have shone on his face because her eyes widened in fear, fear that he would let her secret slip in front of all these people. Petyr reassured her with a minute shake of his head._

_Sansa gave him a genuine smile then, saying, “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Baelish.”_

_He bowed over her hand, smoothly asking, “Please, call me Petyr.” The small squeeze she gave his hand warmed him, and he knew immediately that if he did not seek her out, she would find him._

_Sansa’s purpose would more than likely be to talk, but there had been something else in her eyes…appraisal, perhaps. She had looked at him like a woman, assessing him for something. Petyr was slightly unsettled, but at the same time, intrigued._

_The women (and sometimes men) that came to his establishment after such events were invariably broken in some way; consequently, they would not usually stay for very long. Sansa was different though. Her eyes spoke of tragedy and resolve at the same time. If they did indeed meet later, perhaps she would share the reason why.  
_

* * *

 

_Petyr continued to mingle with the others for a time after meeting Sansa, but the knowledge that she was somewhere else at this party, possibly waiting for him, pressed upon him heavily._

_Finally, he made his excuses and broke away from the crowd, a sense of urgency increasing his pace._

_At last, he found her, away from the noise and the people, a place perfect in its isolation. If he hadn’t been looking, he would have missed it._

_“Come here often?” Gods, it sounded like a line, but he hadn’t meant it as one, this place looked like an escape for her, one that was used frequently._

_Thankfully, she understood his intent, and smiled at the delivery. “Yeah, actually, it can get pretty crazy around here, Mr. Baelish.”_

_“Please, Sansa, call me Petyr.”_

_She smiled with a hint of shyness in her cheeks, “Feels a bit odd, like someone will tell me off if I do.”_

_He mimed zipping his mouth shut, “I won’t tell a soul.”_

_Her smile dropped from her face, “I know, and thank you, for that.”_

_“Would you like to talk about it?”_

_“I’m not—I don’t—”_

_She took a deep breath and tried again, “I don’t know if I can. It’s like, if I say it out loud, it becomes real, and it can hurt me again.”_

_Petyr nodded and waited for her to continue, he had the feeling that the story would come pouring out once she got started. He restrained himself from moving closer to her, worried that it would put her off, having a man near her while she rehashed the memory of her rape._

_“It, uh, it happened two years ago. I was fifteen. My boyfriend at the time was Joffrey Baratheon.”_

_He couldn’t hold back a wince, it was a name that was well known to him, and it was banned from his establishment. Sansa saw the wince, relief entering her voice, “Oh, gods, you know what he’s like, then! I didn’t, not at first, but then it all happened so suddenly. He was a model boyfriend, right up until he did it. We were alone one day and he…_

_“I said no, and he snapped. I—it was, gods, it was painful! But, the worst part was that it didn’t even matter to him that I was there, that it was me he was doing that to. Like, it could have been anyone and the result would be the same. Gods, it sounds so fucked up to say that out loud, to be upset that my rapist didn’t even care! Isn’t that kind of the point?” She trailed off, into slightly hysterical laughter, and it was that that prompted Petyr to move, to offer what comfort he could._

_He approached her slowly, hands out before him, scared that she would bolt at this first sign of a possible threat. When he reached her, he gathered her into his arms without resistance. Sansa’s hysteria had turned to tears, and she cried quietly into his shoulder while he ran his hand down her hair. Petyr held her for several minutes, allowing her time to purge herself._

_Eventually, she became quiet, and then began to speak again, “I think that what makes me angry now is how it didn’t seem to bother him. I had been his girlfriend for about a month, he had taken me to dinners and movies, and he held my hand and told me I was the prettiest girl he knew. But, he did it anyway. For a long time after, I didn’t even feel like a person. Sometimes, I still feel that way.”_

_She was looking for reassurance, something that would let her know that her world had not ended two year ago. Petyr knew that he was not the best man for such a job, but he was the only one there._

_“Listen to me, Sansa; I am not a good man. I’m very rarely a moral man. But, I have never used rape to get what I want because it is needless and wanton destruction. Joffrey is a sick and twisted little bastard, and what he wanted to do was break you. He wanted you to go crying back to your parents about what he had done. He wanted your humiliation and fear, fear that he could do it again.”_

_Petyr raised her head from his shoulder, looking into her eyes as he continued, “But, he didn’t get any of that, did he, Sansa? You buried it inside and carried on like nothing ever happened. He hates you for that, you can be sure. Your strength emasculated him far worse than any knife could have done. Sansa, you have only gained in worth, while he is nothing more than a degenerate monster. You are not less for the experience. Do you understand?”_

_Sansa looked doubtful, unsure of the veracity of his words, and he could not bear to let such a magnificent creature think that she was less of anything because of godsdamned Joffrey Baratheon. Petyr smoothed a thumb across her jaw, catching her attention, “I would like to do something now, Sansa. I would like to kiss you, but I need you to tell me that I may. If you say no, which you have every right to do, I would like to hold you for a bit longer. Now, may I kiss you?”_

_Hesitant, she nodded, and he leaned towards her lips. He whispered, “Thank you,” against them, and then his lips were on hers._

_Petyr kissed her gently, enjoying the softness of her lips beneath his. Her mouth opened a little, and he allowed himself the pleasure of tasting her more deeply. His tongue swept lightly over hers, retreated, and he silently begged her to follow. She did. The sensation of her tongue in his mouth was exquisite; she was tentative, yet curious, and he was surprised to find himself trembling slightly when she sucked hard on his tongue._

_Petyr broke away from the kiss, panting. Sansa had stolen his breath away, and he was gratified to see that she looked pleased with herself about it. When his breath returned, he thanked her again, “Thank you, Sansa, that was—that was rather glorious.”_

_Sansa’s smile was vibrant and beautiful; Petyr had the desire to make it stay on her face all evening, but kissing was one thing, sex another. Still, nothing ventured._

_“Sansa, I would like to give you something else, a gift to do with as you please tonight.”_

_Her expression turned curious, and just maybe, eager._

_“You looked at me earlier the way a woman looks at a man she wants. No, please don’t blush, I’m flattered and interested, but also concerned. Have you had sex since it happened?”_

_She shook her head, “No, I’ve had one boyfriend since, and every time he touched me, I would freeze. It didn’t last long with him.”_

_“Yes, I can’t imagine that you wanted it to, after all that. I don’t want to frighten you, nor pressure you. What I propose is that you touch me, in any way you want. I will not touch you unless you specifically ask me. If you direct me to stop, I will stop, without question. Does that sound appealing to you?”_

_“Gods, yes!” She burst out. “I mean—I’m a little scared, actually, more than a little, but I’m excited, too. The thought of touching you, however I want, and you not touching, not unless I ask…Yes, I want that!”_

_Petyr felt a stab of lust hit him strongly; gods, he wanted that as well. He had never before ceded control to someone else before, but he knew instinctively that Sansa would not abuse his vulnerable position. “Good; however, I do have two conditions regard our encounter: the first, it will only happen this one time, and the second, we will never see each other again.”_

_She opened her mouth to protest, and he rushed to explain his reasoning, “You’re only seventeen, and while that doesn’t bother me morally, it is somewhat complicated legally. Additionally, I may be doing some business with you father soon, and thinking about being with you would be…distracting.” He added privately that she could only be distracting in the best of ways. Sansa looked mildly mutinous, but she nodded in agreement._

_“Very well, now, how would you like me, my Lady?” He watched as a shiver ran through her body at the sound of the endearment._

_“Did you like that, Sansa? Me, calling you ‘my Lady’?”_

_“Yes!” She nodded fervently, “It just sounded…right. Would you do it again?” A blush followed her request, and she bit her lip._

_“My Lady, what would you like for me to do?”_

_“I think—I want you to take off your clothes. I want to see you.”_

_Obediently, he began to strip off his clothes. Petyr was not self-conscious about his body, not even the large scar across his torso, and he was eager for her to sate her curiosity upon his willing flesh._

_Her eyes grew wide with every piece of clothing he removed, until finally, she looked away when he got down to his boxers. He called her attention back, “My Lady, as this is one of the most pertinent bits to our activities here, you really should look. I would even encourage you to touch.”_

_Petyr’s smile only had a hint of lasciviousness, but it was enough to make her blush. However, it also succeeded in prodding her into action. Sansa took a step forward and reached out to him; Petyr, in turn, remained absolutely still, waiting to feel her touch on his skin._

_Her hand on his chest made him hiss in a breath, gods, she felt warm! She lifted her palm, letting her fingertips trail over his chest. The lightness of her touch tickled, made him shiver, and then her fingers were ghosting over his scar. There was a question in her eyes, but she held herself back from asking._

_Sansa’s other hand joined the first in exploring his skin, taking in the differences between them. Her hands moved down to his hips and rested there, as if she were waiting for some kind of sign. Petyr moved his own hands to the waistband of his boxers, careful not to touch her as he did. He pushed the boxers down his hips, then let gravity take care of the rest._

_Sansa kept her eyes on his occasionally flicking them away before returning. He remained silent, patiently anticipating the moment that her curiosity would get the better of her. Petyr didn’t have to wait for long, soon her hands were on the move again, tracing circles into his hips and upper thighs, gradually moving her hands closer to his cock._

_His breathing was coming more heavily, each breath shorter than the last. Her hands were on his inner thighs, framing his half-hard cock. Petyr held his breath as the expression on her face changed, resolve hardening in her eyes, and a single hand grasped his cock. His breath whooshed out of him as she trailed uncertain fingers up and down his cock, feeling out veins and texture._

_“_ Gods _, you have no idea how good your fingers feel, my Lady.”_

_“R-really?”_

_“Yes, your hand, so warm, it’s lovely.”_

_“Is—is there anything else I can do for you?”_

_“No, this is fine, perfect even. This is about you, my Lady, and making you feel good. I want you to feel comfortable with me and my body.”_

_“Yeah, I get that, it’s just, I won’t get this chance with you again.”_

_Sansa’s hand encircled him, squeezing lightly. A gasp escaped him._

_“Did you like that?”_

_“Yes,” he choked out._

_“What else do you like?”_

_“Your hand, up and down, please, my Lady!”_

_The hand on his cock began to move, stroking him with the slightest bit of pressure. The feeling of her hand on him was delicious, and even though he would have loved for her to continue, this night was not about his needs, but hers. “My Lady, you should stop now.”_

_Her hand left his cock as though his flesh had burned her, “I’m so sorry! Was I hurting you? Oh gods—”_

_Petyr’s hand lifted, but he stopped himself before he touched her; instead his hand hovered over her skin, absorbing her warmth. “No, you didn’t hurt me at all, you don’t have to worry about hurting me, ever.”_

_“Oh. Sorry for freaking out like that. I guess I’m more nervous than I thought.”_

_He nodded reassuringly, “Remember, we can stop any time.”_

_Sansa took a deep breath, “I’m okay. It’s easier knowing that and…oh gods!”_

_“What? What’s wrong?”_

_“We didn’t even talk about protection, fucking hells!”_

_Was it strange that he found her swearing to be charming? But, she had brought up a salient point, “Sansa, if I had expected full intercourse, I would have said so. Everything we do here depends entirely on you. If that means you want to spend our time riding my fingers or my face, then I am at your service. However, experience has taught me to never be without protection, so please, excuse me for a moment.”_

_Petyr knelt down and rifled through the pile of his clothing until he found his wallet containing a couple of foil packets. He stood back up and offered them to Sansa, “Whether we end up making use of these is up to you.”_

_She took them, nodding her understanding, “Sorry, again. It’s just—I had a scare after Joffrey. I went to a clinic and got tested, I was clean and not pregnant. I got my mum to put me on birth control after that, made some excuse about painful periods. I never wanted to go through that again, the fear, the uncertainty. It’s just, you’re so adult about this and I’m a mess.”_

_“In what way are you a mess? Sansa, you’re a marvel, and you’ve handled yourself brilliantly. Adulthood doesn’t enter into it.”_

_Another shy smile, “You think?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Thanks, I think I needed to hear that.”_

_“You’re entirely welcome.”_

_Suddenly, she giggled, “It’s a bit ridiculous, you know? You’re naked, I’m standing here in a party dress and heels, and we’re just talking like normal!”_

_“There’s no rulebook here, we can make it up as we go along.” A smile tugged at his lips, she wasn’t wrong though, the situation was verging on ridiculous._

_“So we’re playing this by ear?”_

_“It would seem so. Is that alright?”_

_“Yeah, I’m okay with that.”_

_“Just okay?”_

_“Well, more than okay.”_

_“Okay.” They shared a smile._

_Petyr turned his head, looking for a suitable piece of furniture to continue their activities one. Spying a sofa, he moved towards it, leaving it up to her to decide whether or not to follow him. He could feel hers eyes on him as he walked away, so he made a show of tossing away unnecessary cushions before stretching out on the sofa._

_Petyr snugged himself into the remaining cushions and then looked over to Sansa. She was fiddling with the hem of her dress, as if contemplating whether it would be more expedient to lift it over her head rather than taking the time to find and lower the zipper. His guess was not far off the mark, and in seconds, Sansa’s dress was up and over her head, falling to the floor behind her._

_His breath caught in his throat, then stuttered out. Gods, she was perfectly formed with long legs that went on forever, beautifully curved hips, firm breasts tipped with dark-pink nipples (thank the gods, she had foregone a bra!), and creamy-white skin that he wanted to leave his marks on._

_Sansa was slightly awkward standing in her high heels and panties, but she was also determined. She bent down and unstrapped her heels, her breasts swayed, and Petyr felt short of breath. She stood and kicked off the heels, then shimmied out of her panties. The fiery red curls at her cunt shocked him, but they were also pleasing; instead of being a child, she was a young woman, and she was coming into her own._

_Petyr held out a hand, beckoning her closer. Sansa walked to him, and stood close enough that he could smell her arousal. She wanted this; despite her fear and nervousness, she wanted him. If he had been another man, a better man, he might have been intimidated by the challenge at hand. But, he was Petyr Baelish, and he wanted to see Sansa Stark fall to pieces around his cock, his fingers, his mouth. He wanted to erase all evidence of her trauma, while ruining her for any man that came after him. His avarice knew no bounds, and he was greedy for her, greedy for everything she was willing to give him._

_Sansa surprised him by kneeling on the floor, making her face level with his. “I want to kiss you, but you have to stay still; no touching.”_

_“No touching,” he echoed._

_She leaned forward and her eyes fluttered shut; his stayed open, he wanted to witness every second of this. Her lips met his and stayed still for a moment before she pulled back to place a kiss on his upper lip followed by his lower. Sansa bit his lower lip then, a small bite, but it stung, and she soothed away the sting by sucking on it lightly._

_Petyr groaned and opened his mouth for her. Her tongue conquered him gently, tiny strokes and caresses, and her lips were light on his, making contact for a second at a time, then drawing away. It was the sweetest kiss he could ever remember receiving, and it left him aching for more. His cock was at full attention, and he was becoming lightheaded._

_She broke the kiss and sighed against his lips, “You taste good, you know that?”_

_An actual laugh found its way out of his mouth, “I think you are the first person to tell me that,_ my Lady _.”_

_She grinned back at him, “You don’t have to call me that. I mean, I like it, but it’s not necessary.”_

_“In another time, you would have been my lady, as I am of lower birth. Aside from that, it suits you. You’re a lady, Sansa, and it pleases me to treat you as one.”_

_“You know, I’ve never really paid attention to that whole class thing. Guess that shows how much a product of it I am. But, none of that matters. We’re here, together, right now. Later, we won’t be. But right now, I want to find out what sex is like when it isn’t with someone who wants to cause me pain. I’d call it making love, but that’s not what we’re doing here, is it?”_

_“No, this doesn’t have anything to do with love, but that doesn’t mean it has to be devoid of feeling.”_

_She tilted her head, considering the truth in his words, “You’re right. I feel good, the fear is almost gone, and I’ve got that fluttery feeling in my stomach. Like you’re just some stranger that I picked up and brought back home.”_

_Sansa smiled at the unintentional irony of her words, “Well, you are a stranger that I picked up, but there is feeling here. I think that if I had been able to know you, I could have fallen in love with you.”_

_“I guess we’ll never know, but at least we have this night.”_

_She nodded and stood up, shaking out her legs, laughing when he gave her a puzzled look, “They were falling asleep! It’s hard to keep that position for a long time!”_

_“Hmm, you’re right about that. I’ve never found a way to keep that from happening.”_

_“Speaking from experience?”_

_“Well, I do have more years to draw on than you.” Suddenly, he was struck by the need to know if his age bothered her, “Do you care that I’m so much older than you?”_

_“Nope!”_

_“That was…succinct.”_

_“Yeah, but true. I’m glad actually. You being older is sexy, sure, but also reassuring. You’re in control of yourself. I need that.”_

_“Ah, that makes sense. Yes, I’m more in control of my impulses, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have them. For instance, I’m rather close to begging you to climb on top of me and ride me to oblivion.”_

_That bit of truth startled her, and she flushed. The rosy-red color reached the tops of her breasts, and he admired the contrast with her white skin._

_“You would beg me for_ that _?”_

_“Oh, most assuredly. I’m not above begging.”_

_Sansa bit her lip and glanced down his body to where his cock lay heavy with desire. She made a quick move, and suddenly, she was on top of him, perched on his lap like a queen. Her scent and warmth enveloped him, seeping down into his bones and marrow._

_“I don’t want to make you beg, Petyr.”_

_It was his turn to be startled; she had not called him by his name thus far, and he found he liked the sound of his on her tongue. Well, if she didn’t want him to beg, he might as well lay his offerings before her, “What’s your pleasure, my Lady? My fingers? My tongue? My cock? All yours for the taking.”_

_“I think I want your fingers. No one else has ever…”_

_“In that case, I will have to sit up some. Hold on.”_

_Petyr pushed up and shifted backwards, groaning low in his throat as his cock dragged through Sansa’s wetness. She moaned slightly as well, and they both halted their movements, staring hotly at each other._

_Sansa lunged forward, snaring his lips in a hard, desperate kiss. Before he could respond, she drew back and panted against his lips, “I want you to touch me now, Petyr; touch me any way you want, please!”_

_Gods, she’d given him free reign over her body, but he needed to move slowly. It did not matter what she said, this was about how she needed, wanted, to be touched. “I want to touch you, my Lady, but I want you to tell me how. You know what pleases you, instruct me.”_

_She blushed, “Oh that sounds good. I think I’d like that even more. But, um, gods, where do I start?”_

_“When you’re alone at night, under your covers, and you’re struck by that sudden need, where do you start?”_

_“At—at my breasts.”_

_“What do you do to them?”_

_“I—uh—I play with my nipples first. I like to get them really hard.”_

_In a flash, his fingers were at her nipples, circling them lightly. He was teasing her, wanting to draw out her frustration so that she would begin issuing commands. Petyr wanted her to take charge of the pleasure he was giving her. He kept circling, adding a light stroke here and there; her hips were grinding against him, trying to find relief._

_“Harder, Petyr! I need you to pinch them!”_

_Yes, perfect!_

_He obliged her, first pinching one, then the other, alternating his movements, building tension within her._

_“Yes—ah! That feels so good! Your mouth, I want your teeth, biting. Here!” Sansa grasped her breasts, dislodging his fingers, and offered them up to his mouth. She was a banquet for his senses, and his mouth watered for a taste._

_Petyr latched on to a proffered nipple, taking it between his teeth and pulled back slightly. His teeth raked over her flesh and she let out a loud moan; her body went rigid over him, her thighs clenching around his._

_“Like that?” he whispered against her skin._

_“Gods, yes! Again!”_

_He went to her other breast and repeated the action, this time adding a flick of his tongue. When he went to pull away, she grabbed his hair, holding his head to her breast. “Suck!” The order was gasped out. He was more than happy to obey. Petyr laved her nipple, rolled his tongue around it before nibbling at her again._

_Small cries of pleasure were coming from her mouth, and she was straining against him, trying to get closer. Sansa pushed his head back and attacked his lips once more, swiftly invading his mouth with her tongue, stealing every bit of breath from his lungs. Eventually, she was forced to break away for air. Their chests were heaving; her nipples scraped across, and it took every ounce of restraint he had not to thrust up against her._

_Petyr needed a distraction, “What—what do you do next?”_

_It took a moment for her to get her breath back to answer him, “Mm, I usually have one hand playing with a nipple, and I use the other to finger my—”_

_Sansa bit her lip and looked away._

_“I’ve been dying to know what you call it. I’ve been thinking that you’re too demure to use vulgarities, but you’re a woman with hidden depths. I’ll bet you use a word so vulgar that you’ve never said it aloud, not even when you’re alone. Am I close?”_

_A flush spread across her skin, and she nodded, not meeting his eyes._

_“I’d love to hear you say it. Vulgar words sound delicious when you say them.”_

_She took a breath, gathering her courage, “I like to start with one finger in my—in my cunt.”_

_Sansa rushed through the word the first time, but saying it once seemed to remove her inhibitions, she was almost purring out her words as he began to move against her, “I start with that one finger in my cunt, and I leave the base of my palm on my clit, to rub it while I’m moving my finger. Then, I add another finger. I like how tight it feels and—ah!”_

_While she had been speaking, describing in detail what she liked, Petyr had been following her words as if they were commands. He slid a finger into her cunt, marveling at her heat and wetness. He thrust it in and out slowly, being sure to drag his palm across her clit, rubbing against her. He made sure to vary his pressure; he didn’t want her coming just yet._

_When she spoke about adding a second finger, he slowly slipped one into her alongside the first. Her gasp had stopped his movements and he waited for her to tell him to continue._

_“Ah, sorry, it’s just a bit uncomfortable. Your fingers are bigger than mine. Just give me a second.”_

_He waited, not moving, and gradually, she relaxed around his fingers.“May I?”_

_“Yeah, it’s okay now, but slow, ‘kay?”_

_“Anything for you, my Lady.”_

_Gently, he worked his fingers into her, relying on her gasps, and her grip on his shoulders, to tell him if he went too far. Sansa warmed to the friction of his fingers in her cunt, and a fresh gush of her juices coated them. He put more pressure on her clit, and her hot cunt began to clench around his fingers._

_“My Lady, are you close?”_

_She breathed into his ear, “Y-yes!”_

_“Do you want me to make you come?”_

_Sansa nodded into his neck, her breath too short to form an answer._

_“Do I need to go faster, my Lady?”_

_Another nod and her hips ground down onto his fingers. Acknowledging her silent reply, his fingers sped up, sliding smoothly through her wetness. Petyr found a spongy spot within her and rubbed against it furiously._

_She jerked against him, crying out, “Yes! Just a bit more, please!”_

_He thrust his fingers a few more times, making sure to pull his fingers across that spot every time. Petyr wrapped his lips and teeth around her nipple and tugged. That was enough; Sansa shattered, letting out a small wail before slumping against him, her body drained. He withdrew his finger from her and lifted them to his nose, inhaling her scent._

_Curious, she turned her head to see what he was doing. Petyr slipped a single digit into his mouth, savoring her flavor._

_“Do I—do I taste good?”_

_He twisted his head a little to look down at her. “You taste exquisite, my Lady. Would you like to try?”_

_Petyr offered her the finger still covered in her essence; Sansa licked at it tentatively, and then took his finger into her mouth, sucking at it with a fervor that had him aching to feel her mouth on his cock. Perhaps later, if she wanted to. For now, he was more than content with her pretty lips wrapped around his finger, enjoying her own unique flavor._

_Sansa drew back, his finger slipping from her mouth. She smiled at him, “You’re right, I do taste good.”_

_Petyr whispered back to her, enjoying the flash of lust in her eyes at his words, “Later, if you let me, I’ll eat your cunt, and then kiss you so you can get a better taste.”_

_“Y-yeah?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I’d like that, a lot. But, right now, I want to do something else.”_

_“You’re sure? We don’t have to; you can ride my fingers for the rest of our time together, and you’ll be just as satisfied.”_

_She shook her head, “No, I want more than that. It’s like I’m empty, and I need more than your fingers filling me up.”_

_Petyr looked at her, searching for a sign of doubt, but found none. “Then, my Lady, you had best get one of those condoms.”_

_Sansa leaned over the edge of the sofa and shuffled her hand around for a moment, retrieving one of the foil packets. She sat back up and waved the packet in front of his face playfully, “And what do I do with this?”_

_Petyr took the condom from her, “Sit back, I’ll show you.”_

_Obligingly, she scooted back, allowing him to sit up higher and grasp his cock. He tore open the packet with his teeth and pulled out the condom. “Watch, like this.” He pinched the tip of the condom with one hand, rolling it down his cock with the other. Petyr stroked himself a few times, ensuring its snug place._

_Sansa watched the process avidly, “Can I—can I touch you?”_

_Petyr’s hand left his cock, gesturing for her to do what she liked._

_“The latex feels weird. I’m almost tempted to say let’s not use it, but,” she gave his cock a small squeeze, making him gasp, “I guess we’ll err on the side of caution. Will you kiss me?”_

_Her question caught him off guard, but she kept speaking, “I mean, it’s great that I’ve been in charge the whole time, you don’t know how much easier you’ve made this for me, but I’d like for you to kiss me.”_

_She blushed and ducked her head; Petyr ducked his head down as well, tilting it slightly so that he could get at her lips. He swallowed her gasp and used to open mouth to his advantage. Sansa trembled against him when he sucked on her tongue and her hand spasmed around his cock._

_Their breathing was shallow when he broke the kiss, and their breath mingled as he rested his forehead on hers. “Petyr,” she whispered, “I think I’m ready. Help me?”_

_He nodded and lifted his hands to her hips, “You’ll want to hold my cock steady, that’s it. Don’t go too fast, take this slow, or else you’ll hurt yourself—ah—yes!”_

_He drew the last word out, almost hissing it, as she sank down around him. She was so warm and tight. Petyr could tell when he bottomed out inside her because she went rigid; afraid that she was in pain, he tried to lift her off. She put her hands over his, staying them, “No, I’m okay! Just let me stay like this. You feel so different, and I need to keep feeling that.”_

_Understanding what she meant, he massaged circles into her hips with his thumbs. He knew that he would be willing to wait an eternity for her if that was what she required of him. However, eternity was not called for, and soon her hips began to grind gently against his._

_“It’s not enough,” she said quietly, “what else can we do?”_

_“It’s alright, my Lady. I’ll help you. I want you to lift your hips up, and when you bring them back down, I’ll thrust up.”_

_Sansa did as he said, his hands on her hips guiding her up. They both sighed when he slid out a little, but she came back down and he met her with a thrust. The result was explosive, and it seemed to be exactly what she was looking for._

_“Again!” she cried out. Petyr complied immediately, and for several minutes, the room was filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh while they groaned and sighed. He could feel his end coming fast, could feel his balls tightening, but he was unwilling to let go without her._

_“Sansa, may I touch you?”_

_“Uh-huh!”_

_His lips were around one of her nipples, his fingers at her clit, almost before she finished her guttural agreement. While he suckled at her, his fingers were rubbing furiously at her clit. Her fingers wove themselves into his hair, clutching him to her breast. Petyr’s efforts were rewarded by the clenching of her cunt around his cock. The added tightness set him off, and he thrust up against her sharply, not ceasing the movements of his fingers or mouth until she joined him in ecstasy with a short cry._

_Petyr slumped down against the cushions, taking her down with him, and together they let the aftershock of their orgasms sweep over them. He pressed a soft kiss into her hair, inhaling its sweetness. The scent was colored by the smell of sex that hovered in the room._

_“Is it always like that?”_

_The question was muffled, and he had to ask her to repeat it before he could answer. “No, I’m sorry to say that it isn’t. Sometimes, men come too early; sometimes, the mood is lost midway, or the foreplay is bollocksed up. Anything can go wrong, really, but when it goes right, it is magnificent.”_

_He could feel her grin into his shoulder, “So, we only did okay?”_

_Petyr let out a bark of laughter, “Well, I fear my ego may never recover from that blow. I’m sorry to have wasted your time with an ‘okay’ performance.”_

_Sansa started giggling, “Yes, it was awful! I can’t believe I even bothered!”_

_“From ‘okay’ to ‘awful,’ I must have displeased the wrong god in an earlier life for you to treat me thusly.”_

_Her giggles died away and she suddenly sat up to look at him; the sound of their sweaty skin peeling apart made her redden, “Thank you for this, Petyr. I don’t think I could have done this if you hadn’t been so kind.”_

_He reached up to push some of her hair behind her ear, “Thank you, Sansa, for allowing me this pleasure. You have given me the most memorable night of my life.”_

_She slapped his arm lightly, “Don’t make fun of me; I’m being serious!”_

_He caught her hand as she drew it back to strike him again, “Sansa.” His tone made her sit up straight on his lap, “Sansa, I could not be more serious. Thank you for this night. I wish we could continue beyond this, but it would be imprudent.”_

_Sansa looked wistful at the thought, “Are you sure? We could be really careful; I’ll be eighteen in just a few months. We could—”_

_“No, we couldn’t.”_

_Her shoulders drooped, “Yeah, we couldn’t. That’s too bad.”_

_They stared at each other in silence until a raucous chanting reached their ears. “Gods, is it that late already?” Petyr glanced at his wristwatch to find that it was only seconds to midnight._

_“Happy New Year, Sansa Stark.”_

_“Happy New Year, Petyr Baelish.”_

_They shared one more kiss, lingering and sweet. Sansa pulled away first, gingerly climbing off his lap to get dressed. Petyr took off the condom, tying it off. Once he was back in his clothes, he wrapped the condom in a handkerchief, and then stuffed it in a pocket. Sansa wrinkled her nose when she saw and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Can’t leave any evidence behind, don’t want people asking questions.” She nodded, approving of his logic._

_They looked each other over, making sure that they were presentable. Sansa reached out her right hand and he clasped it in his own, “Well, Mr. Baelish, I guess this is goodbye.”_

_“Yes it is, Miss Stark.”_

_Their hands parted and Sansa left first. He ached to go after her, to take her away and never return her. But, reason dictated that he stay where he was for at least fifteen minutes before sneaking away from the room and the gala._

_As he drove away from Winterfell, he knew that he would use every conceivable tactic to avoid all Starks (except Ned) in the future._

The memories of his single evening with Sansa Stark assaulted him and left him feeling helpless before her.

“Why are you here, Miss Stark?”

Petyr was struck by the irrational feeling that his entire future depended on her answer.

“I’m here because it has been two years. I’m nineteen, and I never go to find out what my cunt tasted like on your lips. Would you mind helping me with that?”

* * *

 

Later, she proclaimed that she tasted even better on his lips and wondered aloud about whether or not the same could be said of him. Petyr was happy to indulge her curiosity.

Much later, when they were lying in his bed, their bodies exhausted from their activities, she told him about the last two years of her life. Told him that while her family remained ignorant of her rape, her therapist knew all, and that he had been right about the sex.

“You’ve been the only one that it feels _right_ with,” she confessed. One day, he would tell her that it was the same for him.

“And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For what you did to Joffrey. I felt so relieved when I heard.”

“Ah, yes, that. How did you know?”

“You told me that you weren’t a moral man, that you weren’t a _good_ man, but I knew that you were good to me. Was I wrong?”

Petyr pulled her to him, inhaling her sweet scent. “No, you weren’t wrong.”

He could feel the smugness radiating from her, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Go to sleep, Sansa, you can lord your superiority over me in the morning.”

“Will you make me breakfast?”

Petyr issued a longsuffering sigh, “Yes, my Lady, I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Hmm…good.”

He listened to her breathing even out, and after a while, he joined her in sleep.


End file.
